nine2five 11 Pieces of Me
by Marc Vun Kannon
Summary: Based on Tic Tac. Chuck gets his skills back. Beckman senses an opportunity. So does Carina. So does the Ring...
1. A Heart

**A/N** Here begins the second half of nine2five. The next 10 episodes will be more of an arc than the last 10 episodes were. At least I hope so.

* * *

"_Save it for the bad guys, Carmichael."_

"_And they used to call _me_ a wildcard."_

"_I have to prove myself."_

"_I wasn't expecting all of _that_."_

* * *

Chuck woke up in bed, heart pumping. Sarah snuggled closer, and he knew the knives were coming out. He wore a set now, too, so no matter what position they found themselves in she'd have access to one of them. He opened his eyes. No ninjas. "It's all right, Sarah."

Her fingers moved, pushing the blade back. "I beg to differ, Mr. Bartowski. Almost getting thrown out of bed does not qualify as 'all right' in my book."

"How can you talk like that first thing in the morning?"

She squeezed his arm, and the knives strapped around it. "The same way I can impale an alarm clock first thing in the morning."

"You said that was muscle memory."

"The knife-throwing is. The part about identifying and responding to the enemy isn't. An army of zombies isn't going to wait until I'm ready before they attack, I have to be ready right from the get-go."

He stared at her in wonder. "Did you just say zombies?"

She nodded. "It's called tailoring the message to the audience."

"Ooh, no complaints, I love it when you talk nerdy. Say some more. 'Ash Williams.' 'Army of Darkness.' 'Skull Moun–'"

Her hand pressed harder over his mouth as she pushed herself up into his field of vision. "You don't really think you've distracted me, do you?"

He shook his head as much as she let him, mumbling, "Mm-mm."

"Good." She removed her hand from his lips. "Spill."

"Just a nightmare. I dreamed Ellie was putting the skills back into my head." He didn't need to mention the Terminator and Frankenstein imagery involved, Sarah'd already had to hide those movies.

Sarah frowned. "She's doing that today." _And you're worrying about it _now_?_

"Duh. If she was doing it tomorrow I would have had the nightmare tomorrow!"

"You schedule your nightmares?"

"I have a remarkably efficient subconscious."

_Let it go. _"Chuck, you _need_ the skills. Ellie may be on retainer, and Manoosh may be part of some kind of elaborate work-release program, but your detail isn't free and I'm not supposed to be here. Beckman didn't budget the extra manpower to protect you, and the CIA had an entire team they had to reassign at the last minute because I got sidelined." _Oh, crap._

He watched her face fall. "You think I'm the sidelines?"

She dropped her head to his shoulder. "Can I take back what I said about waking up smart?" Her head came up and she looked him in the eye. "No, you're not the sidelines-if anything you're the referee who watches the referees-but only you and I know that. To everyone else I've been benched-I'm not even teaching-and sooner or later they're going to ask why."

* * *

"Why?"

The man pressed the odd electronic key into Carina's hand. "You do not need to know why, Agent Miller. You need only do as we direct. Complete your assignment by tomorrow and no one has to die."

Carina pondered the glowing key in her hand as her visitor let himself out. _So they want a piece of the Intersect, do they?_ That was just fine with her.

* * *

Ellie smiled when Chuck entered the room for his checkup. "Hey, little brother, ready for the main event?"

Chuck didn't smile back. "Hey, big sis," he said, pointing over his shoulder at the Intersect Room across the hall, "You ready to turn me back into a lethal killing machine?"

She pointed, and he sat. "Well, for a lethal killing machine, you sure do have a terrible track record, Chuck." She started gathering the usual vital statistics. "Zero killed, practically no one even wounded in _how many_ at bats?"

He looked down at the floor. "I think Pebbles might disagree with you."

"According to Sarah, Pebbles gave you permission. He practically gave you an order."

_You take someone down, you're supposed to take them all the way down._ But the thing that took Pebbles most of the way down wasn't him. "No, he gave the Intersect an order."

She grabbed his chin, pulled his head around to look at her. "No, Chuck, he gave _you_ the order. Your unconscious mind interpreted it that way and passed it on to the Intersect."

"So what's the difference? He's still in traction."

"The difference is that the code Manoosh created was put into a pair of glasses and intended to be used at will, and that's the code we put into the Intersect, Chuck." She tapped him on the side of his head. "These skills will not be affected by your emotional state, and cannot be used by anything other than your conscious mind."

Now he smiled. "I won't wake up in the street, surrounded by ruins? That's great!"

It was her turn to not smile. "Well, good, but not great, Chuck. They won't work by reflex either. If you don't have a chance to flash on them you're as helpless as any other man." Except that most other men aren't pursued by every spy agency on Earth.

"I'll take that chance, sis. I'm not supposed to use them except as a last resort. And anyway, it's better than what happens now."

Knocked out, utterly helpless. "It is, but you're going to need to practice flashing, make it as much a reflex as Casey does with his guns."

His world hadn't changed this much since he'd woken up on the floor after reading Bryce's email. "Wow, I never thought I'd hear you say that."

Ellie took his face in her hands, eyes glistening. "Chuck, I hate the idea of using words like 'you' and 'weapon' in the same sentence. But you have these weapons now, and the only thing I can do is help you control them so that they don't control you." Ellie released his face, stood and turned, wiping her face with a tissue. Doctor Woodcombe turned back around. "I hate this, Chuck, but you promise me you'll do your best to master these damned things."

He nodded. "'Cause the zombies aren't going to wait until I'm ready."

She made an exasperated sound. "This isn't a video game, Chuck."

"You say that now…"

"No, now I say get across the hall. We'll do the full upload, but Beckman's authorized a short session, with a full workup on the skills afterward."

He stood up with a sigh. "As old as we both are, and you're still sending me to my room."

She sent him to his doom with a smile. "What can I say, it's a perq."

* * *

"Ladyfeelings, this is Tough Guy."

Casey actually looked at his phone, making sure it really was the super-secret one. "What the hell are you doing on this channel?" Only Graboid should be calling on that phone. "Haven't you uploaded yet?"

"Not yet, Ladyfeelings, but soon. I wanted to float an idea past you before upload, in case I forget to ask it later."

This was the first live test of that little traitor's new code. Sure they all trusted Ellie to catch any little bugs he might plant, but Casey could see why Chuck would be concerned. "I'm listening."

"Doctor says the skills won't work automatically anymore. She thinks I need to train myself to flash on them as a reflex, like you do with your guns, so I was wondering..."

Okay, not what he'd been expecting. "You want me to set up a training program for you? Not a problem."

"Thanks, Ladyfeelings."

"Oh, don't thank me yet, Tough Guy," said Casey, with what can only be described as some hideous flavor of glee in his voice.

* * *

"Sure thing, Dirtnap," said Stampede. "I'll be glad to help." She ended the call, but the message hung in her mind. Chuck wanted to train. _Perfect._

* * *

"Good afternoon, team. I have some interesting news for you, but before I deliver it I'd like to hear from Doctor Woodcombe on the status of the skill set upload."

Ellie's image expanded to dominate the screen. "The upload proceeded normally, General. Manoosh's contributions to the code integrated smoothly. We had a short session today, with no noticeable statistical deviation from the Intersect's behavior on other days. All test cases passed successfully, and several new cases were reported to the appropriate analysts for confirmation.

"The skill set testing was conducted by Agent Bartowski, with Manoosh and myself monitoring the Intersect's behavior and stress levels remotely. As we expected he failed the reflex test. Previously observed pain and other physical reactions were not observed in any of the same scenarios, such as lock-picking. Most important, the weapons skills appear to have survived intact."

"More intact than the tester, it appears."

Sarah lifted her bandaged fingers to gently touch the bruise on her cheek.

"I'm very surprised that Chuck would harm you even this much, Sarah."

"Uh, it was…my fault, General. I slipped, lost control of my flail…Chuck used his staff to prevent even worse damage."

"That's…excellent control."

"Yes, General. Ellie also made him flash on the first aid skills and treat the injury himself." _Waste not, want not._

"Well done. Would you say that he was in condition for more extensive, less structured testing?"

Sarah rose out of her seat. "That sounds like a combat scenario, General, and if so, Chuck will never–"

"It is not a combat scenario, Mrs. Bartowski, we are all agreed that your husband is not cut out for those." Beckman waited until Sarah settled herself. She didn't wait for the angry, suspicious expression on her face to go away because that would take a really long time. "We recently had an attempted break-in at our LA facility, a 15-story deep secure vault."

The word 'attempted' covered a multitude of details, but not all. "Do we know what the target was, General?"

"An electronic key was captured, Colonel. The target is need to know, and you do not need to know. However, as part of the fallout from this raid, we have been tasked to verify the security of our own facility here in DC. My thought was to have that job undertaken by Mr. Bartowski, with some members of the team as back-up. Under the three-man rule, that leaves you and Agent Miller to settle it amongst yourselves, as I assume Agent Bartowski will be the second member."

Sarah nodded, but Ellie overrode her. "I would recommend not, General. Even though her injuries are minor I don't think it's advisable to use Agent Bartowski for this, not when alternatives are available."

Beckman ignored Sarah's shocked protest and nodded. "As you wish, Doctor. The team will consist of Mr. Bartowski, Agent Miller, and Colonel Casey. Details will be sent, but the mission is a go for tonight. Try not to break anything." Her image blinked out.

"Ellie?"

"The answer is no, Sarah." Ellie's image blinked out too.

"Damn! Gotta go, the third floor men's is acting up again. Damn accountants, you'd think they'd know how much a roll of toilet paper costs–" Casey's image blinked out.

Carina smirked. "How does it feel to be benched, Sarah?"

"Carina–"

"Yes, Agent Bartowski?"

"We've been friends for years, Carina–"

"Sarah Walker was _my_ best friend. I don't know who _you _are. Don't worry, Agent, I'll take good care of your nerd." Carina smiled as she cancelled the connection.

The very best.

* * *

**A/N2 **By the way, just so you know, I'm collecting these chapters up into a single document which I will be turning into a PDF when it's all done. The image in the header is the cover art for that.


	2. A Home

**A/N **I had to work at it to come up with some decent puzzles for the corridors, I hope you don't mind that I stole some of them from other places. I always thought the way they went from the first floor to the fifteenth without showing any of the other hazards was a little too cheap. I know they had a plot to get on with, but still...

* * *

"_I have a remarkably efficient subconscious."_

"_Promise me you'll do your best to master these damned things."_

"_We have been tasked to verify the security of our own facility here in DC."_

"_I'll take good care of your nerd."_

* * *

"She wants me to break into the CIA?" 'Not freaking out' was apparently not an Intersect skill.

Sarah shook her head, trying to calm him. "Not the whole CIA, just the vault."

He wasn't calmed. "Because that makes it so much better!"

She shrugged. "Chuck, it's a trace-cell mission, we do them all the time. The only way to make sure our security is really spy-proof is to prove it against spies."

"But I'm not a spy."

She took his face in her hands. "No, you're even better. You're my husband, a good man, with all the abilities of a spy, who isn't a spy." She dropped her hands, kissed him lightly. "I put a bet on you to win."

"You what?"

"Of course we bet on these things, silly. Win or not, how many levels, that sort of thing. It's not like it's dangerous, just…possibly…humiliating."

Worse than being pantsed in gym class? "What does that mean?"

"The guns are tranqs, the grenades are flash-bangs . The most danger you'll be in, is getting taken out before you reach your tip-over point, and like I said, I bet on you to win."

_No tip-over point for him. _"Has anybody ever won?"

"Not for a while, but you're not supposed to, either. I got good odds. Not as good as they might have been, but good."

He smelled a rat. _Might have been? _"I'm going as Charles Carmichael, aren't I?" That made it easier, not like it was his real identity.

_There's nobody else you _could_ go as._ "You should be flattered, I wasn't the only one with a bet to win, just the first. First time in years."

* * *

Beckman was furious. "What the hell happened, Colonel? This entire operation was supposed to stay under the radar."

"Begging the General's pardon, there's no way a trace-cell mission in a CIA vault with a non-CIA team was going to fly under anyone's radar, ma'am. We have three agencies betting on it."

She had to know. "What are the odds?"

"Extremely good, ma'am, once it was known that Charles Carmichael was taking his injured wife's place."

A good fall-back position, but…"Do you think Chuck's up to swinging that kind of load?"

"He'd better be, ma'am, I have fifty on him to win." Absolute confidence. "Through intermediaries, of course."

"Put me down for another fifty, Colonel. To win."

* * *

Three figures in black converged in an alley.

"Are you ready, Mad Dog?"

"As ready as my team, Colonel." Eyes flicked left, then right, to see nothing but eager lack of expression on his partners' faces. "Let's get started." He used a hook to lift the manhole cover at his feet.

"Uh, Mad Dog?" Such a stupid code name, but they couldn't use the others. "The entrance is over there."

"I know that, Carina." Chuck set the cover to one side. "And when we enter 'over there', the clock starts. I want to get this thing finished before they even know it's begun." He made a point of checking his watch.

"What if they haven't completed the switch-out?"

Chuck looked up from the ladder he was climbing down. "Your point being…?"

Casey snarled, but gestured Carina to follow. He brought up the rear, sliding the cover into place over his head. "It's just a name, don't feel you have to live up to it."

**First Floor** – It seemed an innocent little corridor, just a door and a scanner at the far end. "Looks simple enough," said Chuck.

Casey pulled a coin from his pocket. Somebody had to think like a spy. "Looks can be deceiving, Mad Dog."

Carina smiled. "A mattress test, Casey?"

Casey bounced the coin across the floor. Darts sprayed from concealed holes in the walls.

The 'Mad Dog' voice came easier now. "Once more, Colonel."

Casey pulled another coin. "I'm not made of money, you know." He threw it as Chuck watched intently.

"Good. Stand back." Chuck leapt into the hallway, bouncing of the walls, leaping, ducking, at one point coming to a complete stop and then falling flat on his face. Faster than they thought possible he was standing at the scanner and deactivating the hall.

Casey sort of smiled as he approached. "Looks like they got their money's worth."

Chuck held out his hand, and Casey's two quarters. "Your change."

**Third Floor** – "I didn't know you could dance," said Carina as they waltzed past the swinging blades.

He liked the sensation, even though he wasn't holding the right woman. "Neither did I."

**Eighth Floor** – "Look, you guys, I can't keep juggling these grenades forever. Just shoot something!"

Casey braced himself against the wall and pulled his gun. "On three," he said to Carina. "One, two, thr–" They fired, blinding the sensors and the launcher stopped. Carina went to the panel as Casey sagged.

"You okay, big guy?"

"Yeah," muttered Casey. "Just that tranq dart from upstairs, you know." He opened his eyes to see Chuck flinging the 'grenades' down the hall. "No, you idiot, those are still live!" Casey jumped to protect Chuck, slapping the last one out of his hand before the first detonated and they all went up together.

The world went white.

Something grabbed Casey's hand, tugging him along. Carina, probably. Her hands were smaller and she hadn't been looking their way. He fumbled for Chuck, he'd just had him in his hands but now he wasn't there. He took a step forward and tripped over something, going to his knees in his blindness. Even from an angle those things pack a wallop.

He put a hand down on something that wasn't floor. Chuck. It had to be since Carina was still pulling on his hand. Pretty sure she was saying something too, but they're called flash-bangs for a reason. He found an arm and pulled Chuck along to wherever Carina was leading them.

Stairwell. He wasn't about to risk stairs in this condition. Fortunately flash bangs are only supposed to temporarily incapacitate the enemy, so people like him had time to do the job permanently. Vision and hearing came back to him pretty quickly, but Chuck seemed to be unconscious. He'd heard that lights could do that if they were bright enough, but–

Chuck's eyes opened, and he sat up. "Status?" Gathering his legs under him, he rose straight up, hands ready and eyes scanning as the uncurling of his legs spun him about.

"Stairwell two, level eight, flash-banged but functional."

"Very good. And you, Colonel?" Casey nodded. "Any remaining aftereffects from the tranq dart?"

"I don't think so…Mad Dog."

Charles smiled. "Excellent. Let's win this thing." _Because Charles Carmichael doesn't lose._

**Fourteenth Floor** - "Come on, Casey, you've never played Simon?" Charles stepped onto the blue tile, then onto a yellow, then a red. Carina followed to the yellow, and then Casey onto the blue. The screen at the end of the hall flashed a new pattern, and Charles and his team moved forward in sequence.

At the midpoint of the hall they ran into a problem. "Hold on. The floor has none of these colors now."

The first section of hallway went dark. The screen flashed the pattern again.

"Well, think of something else, genius. The pattern's gotta match something, right?"

Charles looked down. Orange for blue, purple for yellow, red and green swap. "Correct."

Another section went dark.

Charles stepped off, onto a new tile, and they followed.

The screen flashed a new pattern, and Charles followed. Then he stopped again. No orange, no purple. No primary colors at all.

"What now?" asked Carina, as another section of hall went dark. One section to go.

"Working on it." He stepped off and they followed, not in the least understanding why he put his feet where he did. Charles hit the scanner.

"What the hell was that?" asked Casey as the hall lit again.

"Computer colors," said Charles, grinning. He pointed. "Cyan absorbs red, magenta absorbs green, yellow absorbs blue, so black equals yellow by default." _Simple._

Carina shared a look with Casey, and shook her head. "You're weird."

* * *

"Sarah, what are you doing here?" Morgan looked around the bar section of 'his' restaurant. "Where's Chuck?"

"He's working tonight, something big. I thought maybe I could use the time to get together with you, like I called about last week."

He made a show of smacking his forehead. "I'm so sorry, it completely slipped my mind. Right after you called there was a major, um, plumbing failure, and I forgot."

She smiled, pleased that he remembered to give her the cover story. "That's all right, you have a hard schedule to work with anyway, so I just thought I'd come down here and maybe we could fit it in."

"Sure, if you don't mind staying up late. This is my morning."

She and Chuck had gone to bed earlier in the afternoon and actually slept, in preparation for their separate missions tonight. "This is for Chuck. I can stay up as late as you can, as late as I have to."

_Wow, that's love._ Last he knew, she worked the day shift at the Orange Orange. "What's up with Chuck?"

"Nothing." She took a deep breath. "Here's the thing…"

* * *

"Letters? Is this a joke?"

"I think…yes. This is a movie puzzle, 'walk in the name of the Lord', that sort of thing. All we have to do is figure out the joke."

"I see a lot of Cs. Should we walk on the C, I and A tiles?"

Charles got out his manhole cover hook, set the hook end gently on a C tile. "Colonel, your foot, please."

Casey stepped on the handle, and the hook pressed down on the tile. A dart shot out to impale his phantom self in the leg. Charles moved the hook to an F tile and they repeated the experiment, with no dart. He chuckled. "I thought as much. The CIA walks all over the FBI."

They walked to the vault. Casey stayed outside, guarding the approach. Even though the test was mainly of the security in the halls, it wasn't unknown for an assault team to prevent a mission from succeeding. The job wasn't done until the safe was opened.

He was very glad Chuck had the Intersect. He was more glad that no one else did.

After less than a minute, the door opened and his team came out. "Any problems?"

"None." Chuck passed him a single sheet of paper.

Casey read it and grunted, handing it back. He touched his pocket, the one with the victory cigar he'd be smoking once they got topside. He took point. Officially the test was done, but he'd put nothing past these CIA pukes.

Chuck followed, touching the pocket with Beckman's message inside, proof of his victory. He couldn't wait to show it to Sarah, as soon as they got topside.

Carina followed, touching her own pocket as well. It no longer contained the key.

* * *

Late at night, men dressed in black approached a door dressed in red. They surrounded the house in the dark, infrared scanners enabling them to do it without so much as a cracked twig or a tripped wire to give warning to the inhabitants. One man stood guard while another picked the lock on the door, and then they were in. They headed straight for the bedroom, sure-footed in the dark.

They opened the door without a sound.

Someone turned on the lights, blinding the two men. Someone grabbed their guns and twisted them up and away, leaving them open and vulnerable to first one kick and then another. As the two men fell Sarah took one of their guns and spun in place, slamming the door and bracing her foot against it.

Two more men were already in the room, guns aimed at her Chuck. "Stand down, Agent Carmichael," said one of the masked figures. "This is a legitimate incursion." He gestured to his subordinate, who safed his weapon and brought over a paper for her inspection.

She watched him back away to his former position before reading it. "You're arresting my husband? On what charge?"

"Treason, ma'am."

* * *

**A/N2 **This story doesn't need the Casey/treason element, so I conflated the two break-ins into one. Beckman's still pissed, though. Comments gladly accepted, thanks.**  
**


	3. A Brain

**A/N **This story is getting a bit darker than I expected, so I'm changing the categories. Less with the humor, I'm afraid.

* * *

"_I put a bet on you to win."_

"_Let's win this thing."_

"_You're weird."_

"_Treason, ma'am." _

* * *

"General, Chuck didn't commit treason!"

"I know he didn't, Agent Bartowski, that's why I had him detained."

Maybe Chuck could have explained the logic to her, but she didn't get it on her own.

"Someone went to a great deal of trouble to make it look like Charles Carmichael's team committed treason last night, and I thought it best to let them think they had succeeded until I knew the facts of the matter."

"You had them all brought in?"

"Colonel Casey, yes. We haven't been able to find Agent Miller."

_Dammit, Carina, this is not a good night for your catting about! _"Have you checked with Morgan Grimes?"

"It was the second place we looked, since her relationship with him is one of the more stable she's had in recent weeks. We found no sign of her." Beckman sighed. "I'll talk to her former DEA superiors next. If necessary we'll issue a BOLO, but that's a step I'd rather not take."

"I understand."

"If you have any pull with her, Sarah, use it. Bring her in before things get out of hand."

Sarah looked away. If she'd had any pull with Carina this whole thing likely wouldn't have happened. Is that what this was, her inexplicable jealousy? Was Carina trying to strike at her through Chuck?

No. Sarah refused to believe it. Carina was a loose cannon, but not that loose. She wasn't.

She'd better not be.

* * *

"Gentlemen, congratulations on a successful mission."

Chuck rattled the cuffs fastening him to the chair. "General, if it's all the same to you, I'd have settled for a bouquet of flowers, maybe a nice card…"

"Mr. Bartowski, do be silent. Thank you. Your attention to detail is admirable, trying to make it look like a real incursion, but that manhole cover has been a known entry point for some time. Still, bonus points to you for thinking of it."

"Were you watching us the whole time?"

"Of course. We pixilate your faces, naturally, but Mr. Fitzroy likes to watch, so he can change the patterns and make it harder for the next team. He was very torn about level fourteen, his inner fanboy came out when it didn't stop you, but I think he was secretly hoping it would. I can think of no agent who could have passed it."

"I'd applaud his effort, it was certainly grade A, but, you know…" Chuck pulled his hands as close as he could to each other against the chains.

"Mr. Bartowski, if you're quite finished? Thank you. Only our best, most trustworthy teams are chosen for this duty, so you can imagine our dismay when the vault sensors reported two boxes opening, not just the one we expected. If either of you gentlemen have anything to say about this, now's the time."

Casey grunted nothing, just turned a fierce scowl on Chuck.

"Mr. Bartowski? Chuck!" He looked up at her. "What happened in the vault?" Beckman remembered the interview Ellie had done. "_Now_, Chuck!"

Chuck responded to female authority as he always had, always would. "I…I don't want to say this, General, but–"

"Yes?"

"I don't know."

* * *

"He doesn't know?"

"That's his claim, Doctor. He remembers penetrating the CIA's toughest security measures and accessing a locked vault as if it was a _dream_."

"A dream?"

"Is that significant?"

"It's better than a total blackout. And it means that he has at least partial awareness of events. Did he say if he was an agent, in his dream, or just a passenger?"

"So you believe his claim is plausible?"

"It's more plausible than treason, if that's what you mean."

"That's what I mean. Ellie, prepare to join a conference call in fifteen. You, Mr. Fitzroy, the developer of the security measures, and Casey will go over every second of footage until an explanation is found."

"An explanation for what?"

"Agent Carina Miller still has not been located. Sarah is trying to track her down. Agent Miller may not have committed treason last night, but either way we need to know what she did."

* * *

First things first. "Morgan, it's Sarah. Is this a good time?"

"Hold on a second, Sarah." Morgan's voice went distant as he put down his phone. "Miss McHugh, your waffles are done. I hope they're the way you like them. Thank you." He came back on line. "What can I do for you, Sarah?"

"I'm looking for Carina. You haven't seen her since last night, have you?"

"No, and that's very strange. I don't know what's going on with that girl."

"What do you mean?"

"She called me, at, like, stupid o'clock in the morning, and asks me if I'm all right. She knows I'm up, why didn't she just come over? I even _asked_ her to come over, but she was all evasive about it. You don't think she's planning to break up with me, do you?"

"No, Morgan, I think it's something much more serious than that–"

"Serious? What does that mean? You're her friend, you should know. You don't mean 'serious' serious, do you?"

"No, Morgan, it's not–look, can you just please be sure to give me a call if she gets in touch with you. It's very important, life and death important."

"Yeah, sure Sarah, when I know, you'll know."

"Thanks, Morgan." She ended the call, placed another. "She called Morgan. After the mission but before we would have checked. No, all he said was that she wanted to make sure he was all right. No, she didn't say why she was worried but I think we can guess. I don't suppose Chuck–no, I guess not. Okay, I'm going down the playlist, and after that I'll play it by ear." She ended the call, decided it was already 'after that', and placed another. "Hi, Hannah, I know it's pretty early where you are but I'm in a bit of a bind. Thanks. You remember Carina, don't you…?"

* * *

Ellie realized she'd really gotten spoiled by all the face-to-face meetings she'd participated in lately. Due to security concerns, neither she nor Stanley Fitzroy could be allowed to see each other. Instead she was on the phone with everyone, looking at a screen with the footage from last night's mission. Not that she needed to see the man whose name meant 'son of the king' to know that he was probably short, maybe balding, and really big fan of her brother's alter ego.

"Look at this!" he almost shouted in her ears, "Look at this! Not only does he deduce the dart sequence after only two tosses, he gathers up the coins while defeating it! It's incredible!"

"Yes, Stanley, it's incredible," she agreed yet again. "It's also perfectly normal for Charles Carmichael. Can we move on, please?"

Stanley was more than glad to move on, more than glad to show not only the fruits of his own genius–which, she had to admit, were pretty good–but even more the ease with which the team defeated them. A series of tests designed to exceed the capacities of three agents was defeated almost single-handed.

Suddenly the screen flared.

"What was that?"

"That was level eight," said Stanley, reversing the recording. "Agent Carmichael was juggling explosives–they had to be in contact with human flesh for at least one second in every fifteen– while his team defeated the eyes, but one of his men had taken a hit on the previous level, you can see him sag there. Agent Carmichael lost control of the detonators in his concern, and only his man's lunge–well, fortunately those were nothing but flash-bangs, but even so, Agent Carmichael's hand could have been severely injured."

When the image cleared the hall was empty.

"Where'd they go?"

"Oh, they were in the stairwell at this point," said Stanley casually. "Not even temporary blindness could stop this team! We pick them up again on level nine."

"You have no monitors in the stairwells?"

For once his obnoxious self-assurance wavered. "Yes, of course we do, but those aren't part of the trace-cell monitoring, I didn't get any copies of those recordings."

"Get them, please. Let's continue."

"Level nine." The door opened.

"What's that?"

"What's what? It's just the team."

"No it's not. It's different."

"Ellie, what are you seeing?" asked Casey.

"It's not the same man."

"I thought so."

Stanley was incredulous. "What are you talking about? Of course it's the same man. What did they do, smuggle in a second super-agent?"

"Go back," said Ellie. "I want to see them leaving the door to level eight."

Stanley skipped the recording backward.

"Look at that. You like to look at Agent Carmichael so much, look at the way he's moving now." They watched, not just the motion, but the touching, the casual gestures. "Go back to level seven."

Another skip backward.  
"Look at him now." Again they watched him moving unconsciously, his mind focused on the challenge ahead. She wished she could see his face. "Six. Five. Four. Now go to nine."

The difference was stark. The man who came out of door was unconsciously graceful, yes, but his motions were quick, and economical. The extra gestures were gone. He touched no one. "It's still Carmichael, but not the _same_ Carmichael."

"Wow, like he's…concentrated himself!" said Stanley, "That's just…neat! This makes so much sense. I read and file all of Agent Carmichael's reports, you know, and this–"

"Casey, I want a complete report of everything that went on in that stairwell, eyes only to myself and General Beckman."

"Yes ma'am."

"Continue, Mr. Fitzroy."

The show continued, as the team defeated obstacle after obstacle, even more easily, if anything, than before. "Here comes my favorite part," said Stanley.

"Why is that?"

"I created level fourteen specifically for Agent Carmichael. You can't beat this one with skill, or reflexes. Only brains, cleverness, cunning will succeed here."

"Only if you call obscure geek knowledge 'brains'," said Casey. "A pattern so obscure you were sure he'd lose, that a geek like you could beat the great Agent Carmichael."

"You cheated," said Ellie.

"I didn't cheat," said Stanley heatedly, "And besides, the whole point is to come up with a test that no enemy _agent_ can pass. Which I did."

"Which is great, until they start sending in enemy _analysts_ to figure it out as easily as he did."

"Casey, drop it. But make a note of it in your report to the General. What's on level fifteen?"

"Nothing," said Stanley, "Just trivia, a bit of a joke, really."

"Nerd humor," agreed Casey. "And the vault itself."

"Show me that."

They watched as Casey took up his position while Agents Carmichael and Miller went inside. They watched as they came out again a minute later.

"Look at him now," said Casey.

"I see it. Stanley, go back to the beginning, the door to this level."

"Sure." The door to level fifteen opened, and three people came through.

"Interesting."

"Yes. Less than the first, more than the second." _Like a man waking from a dream._ "Fast forward to them leaving the vault. Yes."

"Look at that," said Casey. "That's me touching my cigar–"

"And Carmichael, touching the pocket with the note–"

"And there's Carina. I wonder what she's touching."

"Mr. Fitzroy, please do an analysis of Agent Miller's pockets, especially that one. Make it your top priority. Forward it to me and the General, eyes only. I also want a copy of the recording for levels eight and fourteen, and that stairwell on eight. Send them to me via the General."

"I will."

"Thank you, gentlemen. I will go now to compose my preliminary report. If I need anything further I will contact you." She disconnected her end of the call. "Manoosh!"

Her assistant stuck his head through the doorway. "What's up, boss?"

"We've got work to do. I need you to do an analysis of the possible effects of bright lights on the Intersect host."

He smiled. "How bright?"

"Several flash-bangs, simultaneous detonation, varying distances. They'll be sending us video."

"On it."

* * *

Sarah looked up at the building she thought she left behind. Her father had 'left' her some money, but she'd spent none of her emergency fund on lodging as a trainee. The basic stipend included a room, and a roommate. Who'd sworn she would never return.

Sarah'd begun to doubt Carina's sworn word.

She walked up the stairs rather than trust the rickety elevator, remembering the times they'd played Catch and Release, a slightly more serious version of hide and seek, in these halls. No doubt the step up there still creaked.

When she finally got to the door, it was locked. She picked it. The room beyond looked almost the same as it had when she occupied it, but no one lived there now, the furniture unused and in some cases unusable.

"Don't move, Blondie."

Sarah raised her hands.

"Put your gun and phone on that table."

With no real choice, Sarah obeyed.

"Turn around." When Sarah turned, Carina tossed her a pair of cuffs with the hand that wasn't holding a gun. "Your wrist, that pipe." When Sarah complied, Carina put her gun away.

Sarah watched in dismay as her phone went into Carina's pocket. "You know this won't hold me."

"It's not supposed to. For Charles' sake I'm letting you walk away from this one. Follow me again and I'll drop you."

"Carina–"

"_Don't_…say that name again, Agent Carmichael. I'm done watching your back. And his."

"Why are you doing this?"

"I told you I'd take good care of Charles, and I did. Just ask him. But I'm done now." She walked away.

"Yes," said Sarah to no one, "You're done."

* * *

**A/N2 **Comments loved and cherished.


	4. The nerve!

**A/N **The plot thickens, and thins, and thickens some more.**  
**

* * *

"_We haven't been able to find Agent Miller."_

"_She didn't say why she was worried but I think we can guess."_

"_It's not the same man."_

"_I'm done now." _

* * *

As Sarah crossed the lobby the desk clerk called to her. Carina had left her phone. She immediately took the backplate off and checked for bugs. Then she called in, but could contact no one in her immediate circle, so she escalated.

"This is General Beckman."

Sarah guessed her superior's day had been just _full_ of surprises. "General, I had an encounter with Carina."

"I'm going to guess from the word 'encounter' that she's not with you."

"Correct, General. I tracked her down at the apartment we shared as trainees, but she anticipated me and drew first." _Surprise!_

The General lost her cool tone. "She _drew_ on you?"

"I'm afraid so. Fortunately she was satisfied just to warn me off, this time. She delayed me in the apartment and left."

"Are you tracking her now?"

"No, General. She mentioned my husband several times, but only as Charles, not Chuck. I'm thinking she may have a wire."

The General sounded happier about that. "Which implies she's being coerced."

"That was my thought, ma'am. When I asked her why she was doing this, she said to ask Charles." _And that's what I plan to do._

"You think she made a plan with him in the vault? In less than a minute?"

"It makes sense, ma'am. If Morgan was a hostage and she was wired, the only place she could come clean would have been the vault, and one minute would have been plenty of time when Chuck was there. He would know that what she was doing wasn't treason. Has any progress been made restoring his memory?" _Please say yes._

"No, although we are exploring a number of approaches. And the situation is more critical than you suspect, even if he does remember and does clear her name." And her name would need clearing, regardless of what her superiors privately thought.

"Why? What did she take?"

* * *

"Any progress to report?"

"None, sir. The CIA discovered the breach sooner than expected and detained all their operatives, except Agent Miller. She's been constantly on the move since then. None of the specified drop sites have been accessed."

She must not have opened the other vault box when he did, the system would have picked up the signals separately. "Do they know what she took?"

"Unlikely, sir. The search is being kept in-house so far."

Curious. "What is the status of this Martin character?"

"She paid him a visit immediately after completing the mission, and left. He played his games for several hours and then left for his duties as breakfast chef."

"You searched his room?"

"Of course. Several drives were found, but none were our target. Maybe her attachment to him isn't as great as we thought. Should we terminate him?"

"No," said Leader. "He's still a connection to several of the others, regardless of his potential as a handle on her. Besides, Heinrich can't walk upright yet and that job is his. I promised Agent Miller." Around the room, eyes winced and legs closed.

"Sir, if the CIA do escalate the search, they could also drive her back to him. Agent Walker called him earlier and laid that groundwork."

Leader considered his underling's idea, and agreed. "Increase the monitoring on Carmichael. We'll let this play out for a while longer." He noted the man's name, for his report.

* * *

"The Fulcrum Intersect?" Maybe it was the noise her car made, but Sarah wanted to make sure she'd heard right.

"A backup copy."

"I thought that was defective," said Casey.

"Yes, fatally so." Fatal to the project, that is. Some of the test subjects survived. "Our analysis of the files retrieved by Agent Barker indicated that their system would never have been viable. Only Chuck could have survived it intact, and even his long-term prospects would have been dim at best."

"So why does the Ring want it?"

"The Ring is not like Fulcrum, Colonel, they're more parasitical, a power behind a multitude of thrones. They take bits and pieces from a variety of sources. Perhaps they discovered a technology somewhere that would repair the flaws, or plan to put it to a different use entirely."

"I saw what it did when put to its _intended_ use, General."

"Let's hope they haven't ironed out those bugs, Colonel. Sarah, we've arranged for a company psychiatrist to come and try to hypnotically enhance Chuck's recollection of events last night. Ellie's very busy looking into other aspects of the event, so I need you to be here, for Chuck's sake." And Chuck, being Chuck, would go above and beyond, for Sarah's sake. General Beckman patted herself on the back yet again, as she had at least once a week since sanctioning their marriage. _Best decision I ever made._

"I'm on my way in now."

* * *

"Good afternoon, Agent Carmichael. My name is Dreyfus, Dr. Leo Dreyfus. You can call me Leo, if you wish."

"Thanks, Doc. Please, call me Chuck." He offered his guest one of the Spartan chairs, the best the room had, which wasn't saying much.

Dr. Dreyfus smiled, and sat, placing his case on the table. Chuck sat across from him, while Sarah settled on the bed, keeping out of the direct line of sight as Dr. Dreyfus had requested. "Okay, Chuck. Do you know why I'm here, Chuck?"

Chuck glanced over at Sarah, who smiled back, and he set his attention on his guest. "Something to do with my memory lapses, I presume."

The Doctor's voice was low and steady. "A very small something, Chuck. You are not a patient, and I am not here as your doctor. I am here in a technical capacity only, to hypnotically regress you through the events of last night, in order to improve your recollection of certain key details. I am not privy to all the details of your file, but I have clearance to become so if it should be necessary. Everything we do is being recorded. Is this clear?"

"It is, Doctor."

"Will you cooperate with this procedure?"

"I will."

"Thank you, Chuck. Your wife is here as a familiar presence, but she will remain silent during the procedure, unless I decide otherwise or circumstances require it. Is this clear to you both?" They nodded, caught up in the slow solemnity of his voice. "Good." He opened his case and got out a small electronic metronome. "Let's get started."

One hypnotically induced trance later…

"Can you describe the state of this room when we entered, Chuck?"

"Your chair was in its original position, I haven't sat in it, my chair and this table were off-kilter from each other, I spilled some coffee and I had just wiped it up. The lights were on in the number two position…"

"Stop, Chuck. You have a very good memory, and clear perceptions."

"It's what makes me special."

Dr, Dreyfus looked over at Sarah, who was shaking her head. "I've seen the way your wife looks at you, Chuck, and I'm familiar with Agent Walker's record. I very much doubt that your memory is the only special thing about you."

"Her name isn't Walker, it's–"

"Chuck, stop!" said Sarah.

Chuck stopped.

Dreyfus looked at Sarah, and she subsided. "Chuck, I expect that you will keep unnecessary or classified details private. I do not need to know. If I ask such a question just say 'it's classified'. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"Then we'll continue. How did you wake up this morning?"

"A quartet of agents approached our house, two from the front, two in back. The two in front opened our bedroom door, and my wife disarmed them in her underwear."

Sarah blushed, of course he would remember _that_.

"While she was occupied with them, the other two took up positions on either side of our bed."

"Did you resist?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Carmichael would have, Bartowski would not. "It's classified."

"Did you expect them?"

"Yes."

He'd asked the wrong question. "Did you expect them before the incursion began?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"For how long were you expecting the incursion?"

"Since the vault."

"Do you remember what happened in the vault, Chuck?"

"…Yes."

"Why did you pause just now, Chuck?"

"I can remember the vault, but I can't remember everything about the vault. My sight is blurry, I can't hear very well."

"Why not? Were you injured?"

Sarah shook her head.

"I…don't know. I don't feel pain."

"What can you see?"

"I see the vault box, I see my hands putting on the electronic lockpick, I see the display, I see…nothing, I hear sounds, like people talking but I can't make out the words. I see the vault box again, the lock picked. Then I grab the handle and I can hear myself say, 'Now'. Then I turn the handle and I get the note. It says–"

"Stop, Chuck. We know what the note says. Why did you say 'now'?"

"I don't know."

"Were you talking to someone?"

"I…yes."

"Who were you talking to, Chuck? Were you talking to Agent Miller?"

"I don't know."

"Is she in the vault with you, Chuck?"

"Yes, we entered together. Casey is watching the door."

"Do you remember passing the test on level fifteen, Chuck?"

"Yes, it was easy."

"What about level fourteen, Chuck?"

"I…"

"Chuck?"

"Colors?"

"Yes, Chuck. You had to match colors."

"Dancing on colors. I…he couldn't…"

Dreyfus and Sarah both leaned forward. Dreyfus kept his voice calm. "Who is 'he', Chuck?"

"I…don't know."

"Is it Colonel Casey?"

"No."

"Is there anyone else there with you?"

"No, just the four of us."

"Four?"

"Three. Me, Casey, Carina."

"Do you remember level thirteen, Chuck?"

"No."

Dreyfus checked a piece of paper. "Level nine?"

"No."

"What about eight?"

"I was juggling grenades."

"Yes you were. How many grenades, Chuck?"

"Six. That way the others had their hands free. But the ceiling was too low, I couldn't take any more."

"Did you drop the grenades, Chuck?"

"Casey was hurt, I…threw them away to help him. He knocked the last one out of my hand."

"They went off, didn't they?"

"Yes…"

"Do you remember what happened after they went off?"

"No."

"We need to know what happened after they went off, Chuck. Do you want to help us?" He gestured to Sarah.

"Chuck, we need to know, Carina's in danger."

"I have to help Carina."

"Yes, please, Chuck."

"What do I do?"

"You listen to my voice, Chuck," said Dr. Dreyfus, waving Sarah back. "Listen to me as I count backwards. I'll start at fifteen, you remember fifteen, you were there. Fourteen. Thirteen. Twelve. Eleven. Ten. Nine. Eight. You are there, Chuck, you are there on level eight, you are _in that stairwell_, Chuck. What happened, Chuck?"

Sarah leaned forward. "_Now_, Chuck!"

Chuck slumped in his chair, his head falling forward to hit the table with a _thud!_

Dreyfus and Sarah looked at each other, and Dreyfus reached out a hand to touch Chuck. As he touched two fingers to Chuck's neck, Chuck's head came up, his expression firm and cold. He pushed against the table, knocking the doctor away. Chuck leaped over the table in a handspring and came down on top of the doctor's chair, pinning him against the floor with his own pen pointed at his eye. "Who are you?"

"I'm Dr. Dreyfus," said Leo as calmly as he could. "Who are you?"

"Charles," said Sarah, and Chuck's head turned in her direction fast enough to be heard. "Charles Carmichael, we meet at last. It's your plan Carina's following, isn't it?"

He knelt there, unmoving.

"_Isn't it?_"

Charles nodded once, slowly. "I'm sorry, Sarah." Leo's pen fell from limp fingers as Charles Carmichael slumped once again.

Sarah came over and pulled her husband over to lie on the floor as Leo retrieved his pen and stood up. "What was that?" he asked, putting down the pen to fix himself, his clothes, his chair, setting his world right.

Sarah pulled out her phone. "Keep the pen, doctor," she said, pressing a contact, "You're going to need it. Ellie…?"

* * *

"But Charles Carmichael doesn't _exist_."

"He does now, General. And Carina's out there, following a plan than no one knows about but her and a figment of Chuck's imagination."

"Colonel Casey, your thoughts?"

"'Mad Dog' may be madder than we thought, but as far as Carina's concerned, this changes nothing. She's out there with dangerous intel, and we need to bring her in before they do. The treason issue is secondary, and I'm inclined to agree with Agent Bartowski that it's a ruse. Let Ellie worry about how many Intersects are bunking together."

"But General, if we issue a BOLO all that will do is convince her that she's been abandoned by us. She's expecting some kind of contact signal from Chuck–"

"And she won't be getting one any time soon. I'm sorry, Sarah, but Colonel Casey's right, we have to worry about the effects here, not the cause. You'll have to kiss and make up later."

* * *

Carina stood on the balcony of a small penthouse suite she'd used once before. She couldn't stay long, but she got a shower in while she waited. She pulled out her new burner phone, checked the one app that mattered. Still no contact. _Damn you, Chuck._

She heard a knock on the door, and shut the balcony doors, closing the inside catch with a loop of thread. "Miss Gruber, we have an urgent matter at the front desk that needs your attention." She stepped over the railing.

_Yeah, Chuck, you have my back all right._

She heard the door open, could visualize the police officers efficiently searching every room, including the balcony no one could see her from. "Dispatch, she's flown the coop…"

She looked out at the city, a city slowly being closed off to her, by people she'd once called friends. _Not __yet. There's something I need to do first._  


* * *

**A/N2** A bit of a cliffhanger, only without the cliff, or the hanging. These next few episodes are much more tightly connected than they were in canon.

I give a good home to comments.


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